


Dance with me

by AlicienneOfTarth



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Post Season 7, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlicienneOfTarth/pseuds/AlicienneOfTarth
Summary: Jaime arrives in Winterfell."She had just met him in the Dragonpit but, sadly, that meeting hadn’t gone like she had hoped; his coldness mixed with his harshness still lingered in her mind every time she closed her eyes in the solitude of her bed, thinking about him. There had been his gaze, though; those eyes had told her a different truth, like he was trying to tell her something else and that was just another way of communicate, their secret way of communicate."





	Dance with me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first Braime fic, so be kind! I know this will hardly happen in the show, but I ship them so much and this is the result, hope you like it!  
> I don't own anything, sadly.  
> 

-What does happiness mean to you?  
-That you can fall in love with whoever you want to,   
and not feel ashamed of it.”   
― John Fante, Ask the Dust

“Jaime Lannister is here.”  
Hearing his name felt like lava cascading down her chest every single time, even surrounded by ice and snow, even if winter had finally arrived. All around Winterfell people kept pronouncing his name, putting all the disgust and the hate they could gather. Every single pathway of the reign knew about his presence, even the walls seemed to sense his unwelcome arrival somehow.  
“The Kingslayer has arrived.” That hurt her less; he wasn’t the Kingslayer to her, not anymore. That appellation sounded foreign to her ears and incredibly wrong. He was Jaime, Ser Jaime, how she kept calling him, not daring to be too intimate even if it was the only thing she really wanted, a thought that scared her more that she wanted to admit. She could face a bear with a wooden sword but calling him just Jaime was still an impossible challenge to accept. She tried to ignore the erratic beating of her heart, the warmth she felt in her cheeks just thinking about seeing him again. She had just met him in the Dragonpit but, sadly, that meeting hadn’t gone like she had hoped; his coldness mixed with his harshness still lingered in her mind every time she closed her eyes in the solitude of her bed, thinking about him. There had been his gaze, though; those eyes had told her a different truth, like he was trying to tell her something else and that was just another way of communicate, their secret way of communicate. No one was expecting him so early in Winterfell, especially alone without his army and that was the reason anguish and worrisome were devouring her inside.  
What the hell was he doing here?  
Podrick informed her that everybody had been reunited in the Great Hall, ready to meet him without really welcoming him, like she had already suspected. She arrived in the room that seemed colder somehow and took a seat behind the big wooden table, trying to ignore the fact that she was slightly trembling.  
“Are you ok, my Lady?” Podrick asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder to gain her attention. The contact made her almost wince.  
“Yes Pod, fine.” She answered briefly, not daring to meet his affectionate gaze. She turned her head and spotted the Queen of dragons at the center of the table, Jon Snow next to her. She could discern the determination in her eyes, that confidence that never left her and for which Brienne had immediately felt admiration and a little bit of envy somehow. The Stark brothers and Tyrion completed the table. Everyone was there, waiting for him, with the braveness and audacity painted in their faces while she was the only one who felt devoured inside. Then he entered in the room and there was only silence, that strange kind of silence that seemed almost loud due to its intensity. Jaime approached the table escorted by two guards, elegant and solemn in his movements, like he had always been, even once during those days, covered in mud and beard. The moment he met her eyes though, he slowed his path, seeming hesitant somehow.  
His eyes were fixed in hers, their breathing accelerated at the same time, like they were breathing following a secret timing. She felt her own eyes becoming teary but she found out she really didn’t care at this point. The irrational part of her, the one she had never let to win over her brain, wanted to run into his arms and to shelter him from the rest of the world, even if he didn’t need to be protected and she knew that, sadly.  
“Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, tell me the reason of your visit.” Just when Daenerys talked, the spell broke and Jaime was forced to leave her eyes. He found Tyrion’s ones though, and he was relieved to find the same affection he was used to see.  
“No dragon, this time?” He replied sarcastically and Brienne cursed him silently.  
“Don’t challenge my clemency, Kingslayer.” She replied harshly.  
“I’m here to fight next to all of you; my sister lied to you, she won’t send our army North, she won’t help you. I’m here because I made a promise and I intend to keep it.” And for a moment his eyes found hers again. Words like promises and oaths had always been their words.  
“No surprises.” Tyrion said sarcastically, exchanging a bitter smile with his brother.  
“Why should I believe you? You killed my father, the man you swore to serve until the last day of your miserable life. You don’t have the right to come here and talk with words of honor and respect, you’re despicable, Kingslayer--”  
“His name is Jaime.” Everyone looked at Brienne in that moment, she barely registered the fact that she had really spoken and those words weren’t in the safety of her mind anymore. She had said them out loud, unconsciously. Then her gaze intercepted Tyrion and she saw him lightly nod, like he was giving her his silent support. “I beg your pardon, Queen of dragons, you know how much I truly admire and respect you but the truth is Ser Jaime chose to save thousands of innocents lives by killing your father, he was mad, every honest soul in this room knows that..he wanted to burn a whole city, thousand of innocents.. every decent man with a little bit of honor would have done the same choice.” She said fiercely.  
Daenerys was astonished for a moment, her eyes fixed on her and Brienne could recognize a hint of admiration.  
“He threw Bran from a tower.” It was Jon’s turn now.  
“He did not.” Brienne said, turning toward Jaime.  
“I did.” He said, not bearing the disappointment he could discern in her eyes. “I did, a lot time ago and I won’t ask you to forgive me because I will never be able to forgive myself too. The only thing I ask is to help you, I could be useful, I fought so many times, I have different strategies, different experiences.. let be the war to judge my actions.”  
“Do you trust him?” Sansa asked Brienne suddenly.  
“With all my life, My Lady. He helped me to find you and to save you, he swore to me to keep you safe, he’s a man of honor, he’s a –  
“You love him Lady Brienne.” Brandon Stark interrupted her, his voice glacial as ever and silence filled the room. Brienne felt the tears forming at the corner of her eyes but at least they didn’t fall.  
“She doesn’t.” Jaime said. “She’s just the most loyal woman I’ve ever known.” He met her eyes and she thanked him silently.  
“If Lady Brienne trusts him, then I trust him too.” Lady Sansa declared.  
“The war will be your judge, Kingslayer.” Daenerys said. “Do one thing wrong and Lady Brienne will pay it twice.” Brienne nodded and warned him to shut up, just simply looking at him. Then the queen of dragons spoke to all the presents in the room. “This night there will be a celebration, we’ll welcome the arrival of the winter and the beginning of the war that will led us to the victory. Let this be our good omen for the war.”  
“Just in time for the party.” Jaime said and everyone looked at him in disapproval, Brienne hid her smile. Just when people were leaving, he tried to approach her but she left the hall immediately without looking back.  
That night Winterfell lost its austerity in exchange of some hours of levity, knowing too well that the times ahead would have been full of anguish and unavoidable pain. Everybody was dancing, a last moment of joy before the avalanche that would have submerged everything. Everybody except them, the maiden and her esquire.. and Jaime too.  
“Ask her.” She said to Podrick, looking at Sansa.  
“No, My lady, I could never.” Podrick replied, a hint of sadness in his voice.  
“Come on, why not?” She persisted.  
“Look at her and look at me, I’m not a stupid, My lady, I could never be at her same level.” He said defeated.  
Brienne sighed in response, she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t right, knowing too well this kind of feeling. She looked at Jaime who was refusing another beautiful woman that was desperately trying to dance with him and she smiled slightly.  
“Try anyway, Pod.” She said at the end, patting him on his back a little too vigorously.  
“It’s ok for you to stay here.. I mean.. to stay here—  
“Alone?” She interrupted him. “You’re not my nanny Pod, go.” She said exasperated and then she watched him carefully, following his movements with curiosity. When Sansa accepted his invite, she couldn’t help but smile; she found out she had started to smile more since the moment Jaime had arrived. Then she felt his eyes on her, Jaime’s eyes, she could feel them every time and they never lost their grip on her. He was staring at her from his position, seeming to contemplate something. She looked at him and when their staring was too intense, he stood up, walking toward her.  
She figured out his intentions almost immediately.  
“The answer is no.” She said, just when he was about to ask her something.  
“Why not?” He replied annoyed.  
“Seriously? I don’t want to be the entertainment of the night.”  
“Oh come on, don’t be a coward.” He said and she could discern that special and annoying smirk she had learned to love.  
“Don’t play that card with me, Ser Jaime. Look, there are plenty of women dying at your feet, just pick one of the—  
“Dance with me, wench.” He whispered and she could feel the need in his voice. She looked at him, finding something she couldn’t quite catch in his eyes.  
“Don’t try anything fun.” She said, taking his hand and he chuckled in response, amused. “Oh God, I’m already regretting this.”  
“Oh shut up.” He said to her, guiding them to the center of the hall.  
“How do I do this?” She asked impatiently, moving her uncoordinated arms in the air.  
He took her hands, putting them on his shoulders, and then he encircled her around her waist. They were close, but not too close, keeping a decent distant between them. He saw her eyes wandering around the hall, panic in her gaze.  
“Can you relax for once in your life, wench?” He asked her, moving his hand against her back in an almost imperceptible caress.  
“Everyone is looking at us.” She said, lowering her voice.  
“Fuck them.” He replied.  
“Fuck them?” She echoed him upset.  
“I fucked loyalty for you, wench, could you at least fuck a bunch of strangers for me?”  
She smiled at his reply and he found himself smiling too, his eyes sparkling. They heard some laughter though, and both of them turned around to see the same women he had refused before, look at Brienne and giggle. Jaime saw the hurt in her eyes and there was a time in witch he would have ignored the strange sensation he felt when someone tried to offend her. This time though, he didn’t want to ignore anything, he wanted to feel and to act following what he felt.  
“Come here.” He whispered, closing the space between them and pushing her against him. She leaned her cheek against his and she could feel his beard scratching her skin lightly. She couldn’t avoid the intimate sensation that contact brought to her. She rubbed her cheek against his almost imperceptibly to relieve the mild itching.  
“Did you miss my beard, wench?” He asked amused.  
“Shut up.”  
“I knew you were a fan of the homeless vibe, you like me more a little wild, don’t you?”  
She replied trying to escape from his grip but he seemed prepared and he pulled her even closer.  
“Thank you for what you said before.” He whispered in her ear.  
She tried to ignore the shiver through her body or the fact that his lips had touched her lobe briefly.  
“You don’t need to.” She said, her cheek always against his.  
“But I want to.” He replied.  
“I meant every single word of it.” She said, her voice almost trembling and she felt his lips on her hair. She had the power sometimes to say the exact thing he wanted to hear and this surprised him, every single time.  
“That thing the young Stark said..” Jaime said eventually.  
“Jaime..” She almost prayed him.  
“Is it true?” He asked then, still not trusting to look at her in the eyes. The moment he asked her about her feelings, the song they were dancing stopped and Brienne extricated herself from his grasp now weaker due to the different emotions he was feeling.  
“Goodnight Ser Jaime.” She said, and then she almost ran away from the Great Hall.  
“Stubborn Wench.” He mumbled to himself.  
She kept turning in her bed, the sensation of his arms around her still vivid in her mind. She could feel the fear of being exposed to him, to his stare, to his piercing eyes. She was too honest to deny her feelings to him so the only thing she could do was escape, run away from him and his curiosity. She knew it was just a matter of curiosity for him, nothing more; he would have teased her a bit, nothing too exaggerated because he respected her, she was sure of that. He wasn’t interested in her, he couldn’t be, but this had never prevented her to fantasize about him in the security of her room; she was a woman after all and he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.  
The knock at her door interrupted her train of thoughts and a wave of panic hit her. She opened the door, finding his eyes almost immediately and there was a nervousness in them she had never seen before.  
“Will you try to escape again, wench?” He asked her, sighing.  
“What are you doing here?” She said, not breaking the eye contact. She was wearing just a long shirt that ended at her knees, but she didn’t mind at the moment.  
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” He answered, even if the truth was he just wanted to be with her.  
She made him enter, pointing at the bed in the middle of the room; he sat on it and she followed his movements. She sat in front of him, collecting her legs against her chest in a defensive posture but the action made her shirt slip above, revealing more porcelain skin even if she didn’t realize it. She was aware of his gaze though, persistent gaze, but he wasn’t looking in her eyes this time, he was looking at her legs. She waited for some seconds, then, embarrassed, she covered them with a fur and the action made him sigh again.  
“What?” She asked him.  
“Your skin is beautiful.” He said, surprising them both.  
“Are you drunk?” She replied incredulous.  
He smiled bitterly, he had been drinking, enough to have the courage to knock at her door, but not too much to confuse his senses.  
“I’m tired of fighting.” He simply replied.  
“We still have to start fighting.” She said sarcastically.  
“I wasn’t talking about that.. I’m tired of fighting this.” He said pointing between them.  
“Wh-what are you talking about?” she asked, her voice trembling.  
He sighed for the third time that night, then he stretched his hand and he found her left ankle under the blanket, encircling it. She was startled by the contact but she didn’t move. “For months, back in King’s Landing, I’ve tried to gain back my life, like it used to be.. I’ve tried to be happy, to feel happy, to love the ones I used to love before everything happened. I’ve made love with Cersei, more than once, like it was the only thing we both expected from ourselves once I was back.. she told me she’s pregnant with my child before I left, I still don’t know if I should believe her. I’ve tried to trust her, to love her, to touch her, to feel her like I used to, but something wasn’t right. The connection was different, distant somehow.. the truth is I was miles away.”  
“Why?” She asked in a whisper.  
“Because every single night, my mind was filled by someone else.”  
He tried to read her reaction for a moment but she lowered her gaze.  
“My mind was filled by you, wench.. by your voice, your eyes, the scar above your lips, your porcelain skin and your unbearable stubbornness.. every single night I prayed, I don’t ever know which Gods, hoping you were safe and alive, wherever you were. I missed you, every single day and don’t ask me why, you’re the most annoying woman I’ve ever known, but my heart.. my heart shuddered to the possibility of never seeing you again.”  
“Jaime..”  
“Shh wench, let me finish this.” He said, closing his eyes, almost collecting his thoughts. “I had nightmares, almost every night, I found you dead more times than I can actually remember and every single time what I felt the most was a painful regret, regret for all the things I had never told you. You have asked me before why I have knocked at your door, the truth is.. I’ve needed to feel you, to touch you, to know that you were alive, to feel your heart beating.” His hand tightened around her ankle, almost trying to intercept the beating there and she was stuck, unable to talk or move. “Let me touch you, Brienne.” He almost whispered, begging her.  
“Why should you want me instead of her?” She asked, a single tear escaped from her eye. He brushed it away, caressing her cheek.  
Because I love you. He thought, but he found himself unable to speak when the tear he had just collected from her eyes, escaped from his too.  
Then, slowly, reading his answer in his eyes, she removed the cover over her legs, exposing herself to his gaze. He looked at her body almost with reverence and his hand begun to travel, following the length of her left leg, feeling her tremble under his touch. His path was painfully slow, as were his fingers dancing on her skin and that simple contact gave her a wave of excitement she had never experimented in her life. He kept following his path, resting his hand on her knee and making more pressure into the contact, then he caressed her thigh, making little circles that were driving both of them insane. When he approached dangerously her center, she closed her legs accidentally, breaking the contact. She looked at him mortified, but he couldn’t identify her reaction.  
“I won’t touch you like that.” He said softly, seeing an unexpected disappointment in her eyes. “Unless you don’t want me to.” He finished to say, almost shyly. She looked at him, unable to talk once again and she decided that actions valued more than words; it had always been like this between them, anyway. Her hand found her shirt and she begun to untie the laces that were keeping it close. She didn’t leave his eyes and she slowly exposed herself to him, her breast semi covered by the now open shirt. She took his hand then and put it on her stomach. He closed his eyes in response, totally overwhelmed by her warmth and her audacity. She covered his hand and guided it to her breasts; he sighed and caressed them with so much sweetness that she felt tears in her eyes. Brienne, tired of waiting, guided his hand below, this time.  
“Are you sure?” He asked serious.  
She pushed his hand between her legs and he found her so wet that he couldn’t help but moan in response. When he thrust one finger inside her, she left his hand and circled his wrist instead, like she wanted to keep him in place. The possessive gesture made him even more excited and he begun to thrust in and out of her, forcing her to lie down, abandoning her head on the mattress. He followed her movements, covering her body with his, resting on his right elbow, his finger always inside her. When he added another one and pressed his palm against his clit, her moans became incoherent.  
“Tell me it’s the first time.” He whispered, resting his forehead against her.  
“Kiss me.” She replied, stopping his fingers.  
He touched her lips once, lightly, like he was almost scared to break her; he kept teasing her with the sweetest kisses, following the outline of her lips until she dug her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth to hers. The kiss became frantic, full of passion. They seemed to duel to gain control of the kiss, like they were dancing with their matching swords, until Jaime’s fingers returned inside her and Brienne was overwhelmed by the force of her climax. He slowed his movements until he put his fingers out of her. She was breathing heavily and he tried to move his body off her to give her space but she kept him in place, her fists tightened against his shirt, maybe wondering if all of this was happening in her dreams. He looked at her, leaning a little on his side. “You’re beautiful.” He said at the end  
“Jaime..” She tried to contradict him.  
“You are beautiful.” He repeated, scanning each word, “especially when you come.” He added smirking.  
She smiled. “It’s the first time a man tells me that.” She said, but there wasn’t sadness in her voice.  
“Then I intend to tell you every single day of our life.” He replied, kissing her forehead.  
She smiled embarassed, avoiding his eyes and his heart melted due to her infinite shyness; then he saw her hand moving very slowly and reaching the elastic belt of his breeches. He stayed in silence, not wanting to break her internal struggle, her fingers were trembling, her eyes were pools of lust.  
When she tried to expose him to her gaze, he helped her, getting free of his cloths but never leaving her eyes, afraid that something could break the spell she was creating. He was naked but most of all he was totally exposed to her.  
“I don’t know how to do this.” She said, finally looking at him, a hint of sadness in her voice. It was his turn now to guide her less expert fingers to his erection. He started to move their hands together up and down, until Brienne drove his hand away, trying alone. He loved to see her stubbornness was back. She started to stoke him but her touch was gentle, too gentle, her fingers not quite tight around his erection and her inexperience made him want her even more. After some more strokes, he suddenly took her hand away and pushing her flat on the mattress, he covered her with his body, pinning her wrists above her head.  
“You are driving me crazy, wench.” He said, and the word wench had never sounded more intoxicated. She replied encircling his erection again and leading him to her entrance.  
“I won’t hurt you.” He said, like it was the most important thing.  
“I’m not scared.” She replied, her eyes closed to hide a different truth.  
“Open your eyes.” He said then.  
“Why?” She said breathless, feeling his erection teasing her entrance.  
“Because I want to look into your eyes the first time I’ll be inside you.”  
She opened her eyes and they had never seemed more blue.  
“You have asked me why I would choose you instead of her, before, right?”  
“Jaime, please.” She begged, not able to hide her eagerness.  
He smiled lightly, his eyes lost in hers. “Because I love you.”  
And he thrust in her, her answer confused between pleasure, surprise and pain. He kept thrusting in her not too hard or fast, but in a painful slow rhythm. His left hand was still circling her wrists when suddenly he felt her break the contact, her hands on his golden hand, busy removing it.  
“What are you doing?” He asked her breathless.  
“I want you, the real you.” She said, freeing him from the gold. He was overwhelmed by her words and his reply came in his thrust that became harder, uncontrolled, possessive.  
She started to move her hips up to meet his movement and he moaned in approval.  
“You’re a fast learner, wench.” He said smugly.  
“Shut your mouth.” She said, smiling.  
“mmm, feisty in bed, I like it.” He teased her. She silenced him, biting his lips and the sensual kiss that followed made them both reach the orgasm together. He tried to take his weight of her but she stilled his movements, burying her fingers in his now longer hair, to keep him in place.  
“I love you too.” She whispered in his ear. “I’ve always loved you.”  
And he left his light tears wetting her hair.  
He knew he probably didn’t deserve her but ‘we don’t get to choose who we love’ he had said her once and now his words had never seemed more accurate.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know if I should keep writing about these two! I need your opinion, thanks!


End file.
